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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029915">warm unalone, come settle down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern'>skvadern</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, First Time, Grinding, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Physical hurt/comfort, Tender Sex, wound care appears for a very short time and entirely as a justification for pornography</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:35:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s not as if Yaz is dim – she’s well aware of why they’d ended up in her bedroom with the dermal regenerator, instead of in the medbay or somewhere sensible.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor's not always so good at using her words. Yaz can interpret just fine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Femslash After Dark 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>warm unalone, come settle down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/wretcheddyke/gifts">wretcheddyke</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>really hope this hits enough of ur prompt to satisfy!<br/>title from technicolour beat by oh wonder</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ow!” Yaz hisses, trying desperately to resist the urge to yank her hands back. That’d only cause more problems, and Yaz is the one who got her hands sliced up, she’s only got herself to blame for this. She digs her already-healed hand into the covers of her bed instead, squishing the fluffy duvet hard.</p><p>“Sorry,” the Doctor murmurs absently, intent on the lumpy bronze machine, a little like a tattoo gun, that she’s holding to the freshly cleaned cuts on Yaz’s right palm. She presses a button and another needle stabs out into the wounded skin, before withdrawing. This one is less painful, maybe because the cut it was aiming at is shallower, and just as before, the flesh closes up almost instantly, healing over faster than Yaz can fully track, until she’s looking down at unblemished skin.</p><p>“Almost done,” the Doctor tells her, in the same absent voice, moving the machine to the last of the cuts. This one is the deepest, where the thorny not-vines that had curled tight around that poor civilian had bit almost to the bone in Yaz’s attempts to free zir. She sucks in a deep breath and closes her eyes, bracing for the pain.</p><p>When the needle stabs in again, it <em>burns</em>, almost as much as the original wound did, and Yaz bites her lip against a sob. She can’t quite keep tears from welling up and spilling over, but she manages to breathe through the pain and out the other side, until she’s in the shaky, endorphin-fuzzy aftermath.</p><p>“Sorry,” the Doctor repeats, a lot more present now her job is done, and when Yaz opens her eyes, she’s packing the machine away. “I’d have given you an anaesthetic, but pretty much all of them react weirdly with the regenerator’s tech, and this really is the best thing for human skin, if you ask me. Sturdy, too – Expansion Age stuff tends to be, you could chuck this thing at a brick wall and it’d work just fine afterwards.”</p><p>“The Nokia of sci-fi healthcare,” Yaz mutters, and grins, quickly swiping away her tears. “It’s okay, I was just being a baby.”</p><p>“Yaz!” the Doctor reproaches, spinning back around in the chair to face her. “Trust me, I’ve met babies, and they’re a <em>lot</em> worse at sitting still than you are.” She reaches out suddenly and grabs Yaz’s hands, the newly-healed skin tingling slightly at the pressure.</p><p>Then she just sort of… doesn’t let go.</p><p>It’s not as if Yaz is dim – she’s well aware of why they’d ended up in her bedroom with the dermal regenerator, instead of in the medbay or somewhere sensible. But having a silent alien staring down at her hands, which she still hasn’t let go off, seemingly completely frozen with <em>something</em>, Yaz isn’t really sure what to… do? About it?</p><p>“Doctor?” she asks, trying not to sound as tentative as she feels.</p><p>Like a switch flipping, the Doctor’s eyes come up, flashing with an intensity that throws Yaz, properly throws her, for as long as it takes for the Doctor to close the gap between then and kiss her, hard.</p><p>Yaz flails for a second, recovering just enough to get an arm around the Doctor’s waist as the alien presses closer, slotting their legs together until they’re practically in each other’s laps. After that, there’s not much more she can do except sit there and get really, spectacularly kissed.</p><p>And felt up, she adds, as she feels the Doctor’s hands settle at her waist, stroking over the too-thin cotton of her shirt. There’s none of the heat that a human would leave behind, not when the Doctor runs so cool, but it’s still ridiculously good, and Yaz can already feel more than enough heat pulsing where the Doctor’s knee presses between her legs.</p><p>Again, Yaz is not dim, and the memory of what the Doctor sounded like when she saw Yaz’s bloody, sliced-up palms will be sticking around her head for a while. She’s well aware that this is the Doctor’s way of Not Talking About Bad Feelings, and she’s not going to fight it, this time. They can have a chat later – right now, Yaz is still riding high on post-pain endorphins and the satisfaction of victory, and she doesn’t think she’ll have regrets about doing the whole ‘first time’ thing now.</p><p>So she slides her tongue against the Doctor’s lower lip, messy and a bit desperate, and when the Doctor’s hands work their way under the hem of her tee-shirt, she hums encouragement and arches her back a bit. The Doctor takes the hint, pulling away far enough to that Yaz can actually breathe again, before pulling Yaz’s tee-shirt over her head so fast she barely has the time to get her arms up.</p><p>With her top vanished onto the floor somewhere, Yaz really tries to resist the urge to curl into herself. Not that she thinks she’s not hot stuff, she’s spent even more time in the gym since coming on board with the Doctor and she’s in the best shape of her life right now. It’s just… a bit terrifying, is all. No one’s seen her with her shirt off in way longer than Yaz really likes to think about, and she’s never had anyone she cares about this much look at her this way. Intent, piercing, completely <em>fascinated</em>.</p><p>The Doctor reaches out, like she can’t help herself, and runs a finger along the lacy bit of Yaz’s bra – frankly, past Yaz deserves a medal for wearing one of the nice ones this morning, for no other reason than that she felt like it. The light pressure makes Yaz suck in her breath, which, yeah, kind of embarrassing, except having the Doctor’s hands on her is slowly leaching all the self-consciousness out of her.</p><p>In the spirit of new-found boldness, Yaz reaches behind her with hands that only tremble a bit and unclasps her bra, letting it fall away. There’s the usual <em>Oh, thank fuck</em> relief as the pressure around her tits vanishes, and Yaz gives a little sigh.</p><p>A sigh that’s cut off immediately as the Doctor lunges to press their mouths together, clicking her teeth against Yaz’s in her haste, and manages to tip them both back onto the bed. The sudden change of position coupled with what’s frankly a bloody <em>assault</em> on her mouth and all higher brain functions sends Yaz reeling, completely out of action.</p><p>By the time she’s sensible again, the Doctor’s managed to somehow get her own trousers mostly undone, suspenders shoved off her shoulders and zip caught on the fabric. She’s left her shirts alone, why Yaz isn’t sure, but she’s not going to put a break on proceedings now, not when <em>trouserless Doctor</em> is on the cards.</p><p>Yaz takes advantage of those useful higher brain functions to help the Doctor get it unstuck and wiggle out of them, leaving her in a pair of men’s briefs with a rainbow-coloured waistband, before fumbling down at her own jeans. The Doctor lets her handle those, apparently distracted by the kissing potential of all the bare skin on Yaz’s shoulders, and okay, maybe she was being optimistic about getting brain-power back any time soon.</p><p>She manages to get her pants off with her jeans, so she’s taking that as a win.</p><p>Once she’s finished with all the coordination required to get out of a pair of skinny jeans while lying down, Yaz glances down her body. She promptly loses all focus at the sight of golden hair spilling onto her skin, silky-soft and just a bit ticklish, as the Doctor presses her lips to her skin. For all the soft pressure, it’s oddly not like a kiss. Yaz gets the feeling that the Doctor’s taking advantage of how many nerve ending her lips have to use them as, basically, a worse sonic screwdriver.</p><p>A flicker of tongue, shockingly cool on overheated skin, and Yaz is absolutely certain that the Doctor has just <em>tasted</em> her.</p><p>“You need to stop putting stuff in your mouth, you do,” she jokes weakly, before immediately thinking her sentence through and cringing.</p><p>The Doctor blinks up at her. “I thought putting things in my mouth was the idea?” she says, and for the life of her Yaz <em>cannot</em> tell if she’s taking the piss.</p><p>Thankfully, Yaz doesn’t have to think up a clever reply, because the Doctor twists her head and takes one of her nipples in her mouth, and literally nobody could be expected to formulate words with that happening.</p><p>Shit, <em>shit</em>. Yaz has always had sensitive nipples, to the point where it’s kind of embarrassing, but she doesn’t think even she realised quite how sensitive they are until right now. Everything is sweet, wet suction, lighting up her nerves , and it’s all Yaz can do to keep sucking in air.</p><p>The Doctor hums to herself – the vibrations feel like they’re wired right into Yaz’s chest, and she shivers helplessly – before pulling away to say “Interesting.” Yaz glares up at her, utterly frazzled.</p><p>“Are you seriously going to be treating this like a bloody science experiment?” she asks incredulously – though frankly, she should have expected this.</p><p>The Doctor gives her a steady, earnest look. “I’m still learning you,” she says, “and this is important, so I’m going to be learning properly, thank you very much.”</p><p>Yaz feels her eyes flutter closed for a second, against her will – there’s absolutely no reason why those words should be making her feel like a puddle of very sappy goo. Ryan would <em>never</em> let her live this down.</p><p>Over the course of who knows how long - Yaz certainly doesn't - the Doctor makes a study of her. The hot, hard little buds of her nipples, the pebbling skin around them and the soft, hidden skin under her tits. The little sensitive spots of her hipbones that she hadn’t even known were there, the ticklish skin of her ribcage that she had. The little scars from mosquito bites that she could never stop scratching fascinate the Doctor, as does the larger scar of her appendectomy – she spends ages running her fingers over them, tonguing at them and occasionally nipping lightly. She’d bet good money that there’s some figures flicking through the Doctor’s head about relative texture of skin and scar tissue, a map of the nerves under Yaz’s skin complete with annotations.</p><p>Yaz supposes she should at least be relieved that the Doctor’s not writing all this down as she goes.</p><p>She’s also unmistakably working her way downwards, and just thinking about that is making Yaz’s head spin. She keeps waiting for the moment when her brain will bring this all screeching to a halt, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. Fair enough; Yaz has always been decisive, and apparently she’s already made all the decisions she needs to. When the Doctor noses into her pubes, grown wild since Yaz gave up on razors, there’s only anticipation, sharp and bubbly as champagne.</p><p>The Doctor grins, that beautiful sunshine smile that makes Yaz forgive her anything, always, so long as she keeps pointing it at her. Then she lowers her head, and brushes those soft, cool lips unerringly against Yaz’s clit.</p><p>The crack of pleasure whipping down her spine jerks Yaz’s whole body, hips spasming up off the bed, and she so nearly brains the Doctor. “Sorry!” she yelps as the Doctor rears back, still grinning delightedly.</p><p>“Sensitive, yeah?” the Doctor mutters, and Yaz goggles at her, cause <em>obviously</em>. Then in a swift, smooth movement, she lunges forward, pinning Yaz’s hips tight to the bed, and sealing her whole mouth around Yaz’s clit again.</p><p>Yaz jerks, gasps, curses and cries out, collapsing back onto the bed and staring blindly up at the ceiling. The coolness of her mouth is shocking, where she’s so blood-flushed and sensitive, and Yaz is absolutely certain that no human tongue would be this dexterous, twisting and flickering against the painfully tender skin. The Doctor sucks gently, tongue pulsing rhythmically against her, and Yaz whimpers shamelessly.</p><p>She scrabbles in the blankets, and one hand manages to blindly locate the Doctor’s hair, and bury itself in the messy softness. The maddening rhythm pauses for a moment, and Yaz prickles with nervousness for a moment before the Doctor groans, muffled and emphatic, making Yaz shake again.</p><p>She’s <em>just</em> about got enough working braincells to get a better grip on the Doctor’s hair, give it a little tug. The little rumble, almost a purr, she gets for that is pressed right into her clit, and fuck, <em>fuck</em>, how is she already so close?</p><p>The Doctor pulls off her clit for a moment to swipe her tongue through Yaz’s folds, humming to herself happily, and Yaz cannot, actually cannot deal with this. Sudden cool, broad pressure against her entrance and the Doctor’s tongue is inside her, actually fucking <em>inside her, </em>and Yaz can feel every muscle in her body tightening, ratcheting up.</p><p>The clamp of her thighs around the Doctor’s head must be a good enough warning, because that awful, clever tongue slides up to her clit again, swiping over it just rough enough to feel through the ridiculous amount of wet, a fast and steady rhythm that sends Yaz’s toes curling as a roaring wave of pleasure rocks through her.</p><p>When Yaz comes, she swears she sees literal fireworks.</p><p>It takes way longer than it should to unclench her legs from where she’s sort of strangling the Doctor a bit – not that she looks entirely unhappy with the situation, but it’s probably rude to be trying this hard to crush your partner’s skull. When she finally releases her, the Doctor doesn’t seem inclined to move, just rests her head lightly on Yaz’s thigh and stares happily up her, smile so soft that even through the daze of endorphins, Yaz melts a little more.</p><p>The Doctor wriggles her way out from between Yaz’s legs to drape herself over Yaz like a human blanket, like the big golden retriever Yaz sort of suspect she is in her soul. She’s a full grown person, soft and pressing into Yaz, and by rights Yaz should feel squished, a bit trapped. Instead, she feels head-swimmingly free.</p><p>“How was that?” the Doctor asks when they’re nose to nose. “Was it okay, everything good, any notes for me? I can take notes, great at constructive criticism, so long as it actually is constructive and not just, you know, people being knobs, not that I think you’re in any way-“</p><p>“Doctor,” Yaz cuts over her, and she can’t swallow her soppy grin. “Ten out of ten, best sex of my life.”</p><p>“Oh?” the Doctor replies, and that is definitely some smugness, even if it’s so close to Yaz’s face that her eyes are unfocussing a bit.</p><p>Yaz hits her, lightly, on her side. “Shut up,” she laughs, “like you don’t know how good you are.”</p><p>That gets her a shrug, which jostles her in a way that somehow manages to wake up her nerves – how is she this easy suddenly? “Being fair, this is the first time I’ve done anything in this body. First time in a while, actually, whichever body we count – I wasn’t much for this stuff, last time around. There’s always a relearning process.”</p><p>This is one of those times where Yaz doesn’t really know what to say – she’s worked out by now that when the Doctor talks about other bodies, she’s not just being metaphorical about transitioning or something, but still doesn’t know quite what alien thing is being referred to. To cover, she mashes her lips on the Doctor’s gorgeous cheek, and murmurs, “Well, I think you can consider this particular skill fully relearned.”</p><p>“Brilliant,” the Doctor says, wriggling against her again. When she settles, she’s somehow managed to fit her legs around one of Yaz’s, straddling her thigh, and don’t think Yaz has missed the implications there.</p><p>In the spirit of experimentation, she gently grinds her thigh up against the Doctor’s crotch, and grins a little at the sharp gasp she gets for it. Okay, maybe the Doctor’s smugness is understandable. She does it again, nice and slow, and the Doctor sighs and wiggles to get in the perfect position.</p><p>“Yeah,” Yaz murmurs in her ear, “is this good for you?”</p><p>“Brilliant,” the Doctor repeats, and starts to slowly circle her hips. Yaz moves her hands to the Doctor’s arse, head slightly spinning at her own boldness, and encourages her to put a little more force into her movements. Feeling the seat of the Doctor’s briefs drag against her skin – and Yaz doesn’t think she’s imagining the slight dampness in the fabric – is like coal tossed into the smouldering heat in her core, and Yaz finds herself grinding up on the Doctor’s thigh where it’s slotted between her legs.</p><p>The Doctor gets bolder, slowly but surely, the movement of her hips getting faster and harder until she’s fully rutting against Yaz. Her breath is coming in little pants, sweet and damp against Yaz’s face.  Yaz turns her still-burning face to fit it into the curve of the Doctor’s neck, pressing somehow closer to the impossibly lovely alien genius who’s slowly coming to pieces on top of her.</p><p>“Do you want-“ she starts, but the Doctor shakes her head, chin clunking slightly against Yaz’s skull.</p><p>“Just this,” she moans, the voice that Yaz has witnessed talking down warriors and predators and kings and gods now cracked and shaking. “Next time, maybe, love to experiment I do, but right now-“</p><p>“Okay,” Yaz replies quickly, thumbs petting over the soft cotton covering the Doctor’s gorgeous arse. “This is- this is lovely, just this is <em>so</em> completely fine-“</p><p>The Doctor laughs, the force of her hips riding Yaz’s thigh now basically pinning Yaz to the bed, which Yaz is absolutely not going to complain about, not when it sends those hot little shivers through her gut. It’s all she can do to hang on.</p><p>She presses a soft kiss to the Doctor’s neck, just beneath her ear, and apparently that’s enough – the Doctor gasps and shudders, hips jerking wildly before settling hard on Yaz’s thigh. Yaz can feel her muscles spasming, shockingly strong, can feel her moaning out her pleasure into her hair, and feeling someone she cares about so much coming undone in her arms-</p><p>Yaz’s hips snap up, meeting just the right angle to grind her clit against perfect pressure and she’s gone, again. This time the pleasure is like a punch to the gut, sudden and overwhelming, leaving Yaz shaken and exhausted and so happy she could cry.</p><p>She might actually, cry, a little bit. But she’s not admitting to anything.</p><p>The Doctor relaxes all of a sudden, with her whole body, going loose as a ragdoll kitten and slithering off to the side of Yaz to curl into the mattress, sighing happily. She presses a gentle kiss to the piece of Yaz’s shoulder that’s ended up under her lips, a friendly sort of <em>hi there, you </em>that’s impossibly endearing.</p><p>Faintly, Yaz wonders if they're going to need to talk about this. After a few minutes, she decides the answer is both 'probably, yes' and 'not right now, because I'm about to pass out', and gives up on maintaining the last of her drained brainpower. Tomorrow's a new day, and all that. </p><p>“You going to sleep here?” Yaz asks, and immediately wishes she could do another take on that sentence. It sound so <em>plaintive</em>.</p><p>The Doctor gives her a long look, and for a moment Yaz thinks she’s going to give up on words again, and just go. But then she sighs, and brushes a sweaty strand of hair out of Yaz’s face. “Don’t really sleep,” she says quietly, “not nearly as much as humans do, anyway. And I’ve got stuff to do, so I probably won’t stay the full eight hours and change. But I can do a little while, if you want?”</p><p>Yaz can’t bite back her grin, not even a little, but she’s not exactly trying hard anymore. “I do want, yeah,” she replies, and raises her arm, letting the Doctor curl up happy as a cat on her chest.</p><p>She wakes up twice to blonde hair tickling her nose, and doesn’t mind in the slightest.</p>
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